


cake please.

by HerotheHardWay



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: AU Canon Divergence, Gen, Sassy Skull, Temporary Homelessness, The Creeping Shadow canon divergence, and then more permanent homeness, broke lucy, burgling some cake, no tea was harmed in the making of, there's kind of a lot of crying?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 19:24:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10928415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerotheHardWay/pseuds/HerotheHardWay
Summary: Lucy's been kicked out of her apartment for not paying rent on time, and now she's broke, cold, and hungry, and she really really misses Lockwood & Co.





	cake please.

**Author's Note:**

> Response to a prompt I received from @lord-of-isolation on tumblr. Thanks for the interesting prompt! I had no idea it would spawn 4000 words of fic. Disclaimer: I've listened to all the Lockwood & Co books on audio, so I may have incorrectly capitalised some things. Credit for Lockwood & Co universe goes to Jonathan Stroud.

Lucy didn’t know where else to go. It was bitterly cold, and even in her puffy coat, she was shivering. It didn’t exactly help that all her clothes were skirts and blouses, even if she _did_ have wool leggings. And it had been such a long time since she’d had anything warm to eat. Her stomach made an inhuman rumble, and Lucy glanced around to make sure nobody had heard. Apparently nobody had, or at least had mistaken the noise for a mysterious raccoon noise, or something. People bustled past her on the sidewalk, breath appearing in clouds in front of their faces. Lucy wrapped her blanket tighter around herself and once again tried to squeeze into as small a ball as possible to conserve heat. She suspected she was using more energy keeping herself curled up than the effort really merited, but at least it was warming her up a little. Her rucksack was flopped by her side, but it contained exactly one (1) glass jar, containing one (1) Type III ghost, and zero candy bars, or tea bags, or even a stray crushed packet of biscuits. Her rapier was tucked between her and the wall of the bakery she was currently leaning against, for safekeeping.

 

_Ting_

 

Lucy glanced up, not moving her head. A pound coin glimmered up at her from the sidewalk. The person who had tossed it in her general direction was already gone, lost in the crowd. She still got a sinking feeling in her stomach whenever it happened. She wasn’t begging, she was just…sitting against this nice, marginally warmer than air wall, that’s all. Of course the sinking feeling could just be how hungry she was. She stuck a foot out, unwilling to open her blanket to the cold, and slid the coin closer.

 

_Ooh would you look at that!_ A whiny voice said from her rucksack. _Dinner!_

“I think you mean breakfast, I haven’t had a thing to eat today.” Lucy griped.

 

_Well whatever it is, you’d better buy it quick! Shops are closing soon, and tomorrow is Sunday._ the skull responded.

 

“Skull! I didn’t know you cared.” Lucy exclaimed, creakily getting to her feet. She folded her blanket and stuffed it in next to the Skull, and picked up her rapier. She knew she should have sold it about a week ago, when she ran out of money (again), but she was just _barely_ not desperate enough to part with the only thing she had left from Lockwood and Co. This week might be the one though. She moved stiffly around the corner, and stood staring at the display of baked goods in front of her. She could buy a bagel with a quid. Bagels were pretty filling…

 

_You know, I’m sure_ Lockwood _would welcome you back with open arms, Lucy. I’m sure he misses you_ ever _so much. And that George and Holly too. Just think of it. Warm, comfy bed, our old room in the attic…_

“Please don’t tempt me.” Lucy muttered. She marched into the bakery and walked straight up to the counter, slamming the pound onto the counter. “One bagel please,” she told the plump woman at the register.

 

The woman’s eyes widened a tiny bit, before she picked up the pound and grabbed a paper bag.

“Oh that won’t be necessary. I planning on eating it immediately.” Lucy said.

 

“If you’re sure, dear.” The woman responded, selecting a bagel from a basket. She handed the bagel over, and Lucy took a big bite. She stood in the bakery, chewing her bagel, as the woman contemplated her. Just as she was about to turn away, the baker said, “You agents do so much for us. I really think you ought to get a discount. Say…50% off?”

 

Lucy blinked. And then almost started _crying_ when the baker selected a second bagel, slipping it into a paper bag this time. “Thank you. We always try our best.” With that, she turned and walked out of the bakery, with a tinkle of the bell on the door.

 

As Lucy walked down the street, she couldn’t help thinking back to three and a half weeks earlier. She hadn’t paid rent on her tiny aparment in two months, and she _knew_ she hadn’t paid rent in two months. But last month she had said she’d get it to him as soon as she went to the bank, and it wasn’t exactly a lie if she just never went to the bank. So she’d come home one day to find her belongings in a pile outside her door, and the lock changed. The frazzled looking young man who answered the door awkwardly shuffled his feet as he told her that her landlord had called him off the waitlist when Lucy failed to pay rent for the second month in a row.

 

And that was that. Lucy didn’t exactly have piles of cash hidden anywhere; as it turned out, freelancing wasn’t all it had been cut out to be. She didn’t get paid individually nearly as much as Lockwood and Co. had, especially given that Lockwood owned 35 Portland Row. So she gathered as much of her stuff as she could carry, and marched to one of the many agent resale shops to sell her chains, and the couple salt bombs and magnesium flares she still had. And then she started looking for somewhere else to sleep.

 

The trouble was, there wasn’t exactly a thriving homeless population in London. Anyone who stayed out after dark, in unprotected alleyways and corners, was rock-bottom desperate. From what Lucy gathered, the casualty rate was high. And even though Lucy was an agent, and one of the best, too, if she couldn’t afford supplies, she was as good as dead on a case, even with the Skull and her Talent. Lucy refused to work for the Night Watch. And she couldn’t go back to Lockwood and Co. She couldn’t. She couldn’t risk putting their lives in danger the inevitable next time that she allowed her emotions to get the best of her. So, she found the warmest corner she could, and came back there every night. And the money from selling her equipment dwindled too quickly, and then it was gone. She knew she was being stubborn, and stupid, not to find a job and earn some money, but every time she brought it up with herself, she dug in her heels. It was her pride, pride in _being_ an agent, not a Night Watch kid, or a factory worker, or an incinerator operator. After all, she’d kept her rapier…

 

Before that coin, she hadn’t eaten for at least 24 hours. On top of that, the weather had turn bitingly cold, the kind where wind whips around the corners when you least expect it, needling into your clothing like you’re in nothing but your underwear. Lucy needed to find a new spot to stay, soon. The alley next to the bakery was basically a wind tunnel.

 

Lucy wandered around London as the city grew dark. Fewer and fewer people were out and about, and by 6 PM the streets were deserted. She started eating the second bagel, internally kicking herself as she ate it. There wouldn’t be anything to eat tomorrow if she at it now. But it smelled so _good_.

 

_Really, Lucy, look at you. You’re a mess!”_ the Skull piped up from her rucksack, _“I can’t imagine a more pathetic excuse for an agent than the one carrying me around. Tsk tsk, I wonder what they’d think if they could see you now. What are you waiting for anyway? You know they’ll welcome you back with open arms…weeeelll, maybe not. You were awfully rude when you left. No explanation at all! But really, Lucy this is ridiculous. You’re going to starve, and then get ghost touched, and then where will that leave me? Nobody to talk to, all alone in a garbage pile…ooh maybe you’ll come back, and then we can be best buds forever._

Lucy tensed up. “You don’t get it, I can’t just waltz up to Portland Row. I’d never be able to make myself leave again! And then something horrible will happen, and someone will get killed, and it’ll be my fault.”

 

_You obviously can’t tell how idiotic you sound. But hey, at least I tried._

“Shut it.” Lucy snapped. The Skull fell silent.

 

Lucy didn’t realize where her feet were taking her until she looked around. She was standing across the street from good old Portland Row. The lights were on in the kitchen, and she could see George’s round figure moving about, probably making tea.

 

A stab of longing pierced her so sharply, she wondered that she didn’t keel over. Another figure joined George, this one thin and tall and carrying a heavy bag, and Lucy turned on her heels and briskly walked away, blinking back tears all the way to the telephone booth she’d passed a couple blocks back. She got in and closed the accordion door behind her, and tried to ignore the wind howling through the cracks and under the door, and trying, and failing, to stop the shivering that quickly turned into aborted sobs.

 

_Ooh, Lucy, I have a perfectly marvelous idea. You have to stop with the weeping before I’ll tell you though._

_“_ Oh, be quiet Skull! Can’t you let me have a cry for—for _once_ without interrupting me with your snide comments and—unhelpful advice!” Lucy cried, angrily pulling out the Skull and giving it a shake.

 

_Hey, hey, watch the nose! Yes, fine, next time I’ll leave you alone. But don’t you still have your housekey?_

“Yeah, and I’m not about to go steal anything from George and Holly and, and Lockwood.”

 

_No, no, of course you aren’t. It’s just that I know how much you love cake, mmm and crisps, and sandwiches. And I’m sure they’ve got at_ least _two cakes in there, probably more with the way Cubbins turns them out. And I’m just saying, you don’t have to agree, but I don’t think they’d miss a couple slices…_

Lucy just stared at the Skull’s gruesome face. It had a point. She _did_ still have her key. And they’d never have to know about it. It wasn’t because she missed them, it _wasn’t._

 

That was how Lucy found herself hiding in the bushes five minutes later, across the street from 35 Portland Row, waiting for Lockwood, George, and Holly to leave for the night. The lights in the house clicked off one by one, until finally, the three agents of Lockwood and Co. tromped out the door, loaded down with gear. Their voices carried across the street.

 

“George, I thought I told you to call a cab.” Lockwood said.

 

“I most certainly did call a cab! They’re just running a little late.” George responded rather testily.

 

“And _when,_ exactly, did you call it? Half an hour ago when I asked you to?” Lockwood raised one eyebrow. Lucy felt like she’d swallowed a stone. He looked the perfect agent, with his long coat, rapier shining at his belt like that. No wonder the newspapers loved publishing pictures of him, he was ridiculously photogenic.

 

“Well, now that you bring it up, I was a bit busy with running around making up thermoses of hot water, and I _might_ have just called him, er, maybe five minutes ago?”

 

“George!” Holly exclaimed.

 

“There was a lot to do!” George sniped, crossing his arms. “And I’m not going to try to explain myself if you two are going to gang up on me.” The little group fell into silence.

 

Holly spoke tentatively, “George, I’m sorry for yelling at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

 

George was silent a bit longer, then finally mumbled something that Lucy thought was probably “s’ok”.

 

Lucy’s legs were starting to cramp up from sitting so long, when finally a cab pulled up to the curb. The three agents piled into the car, and then they were gone.

 

Lucy just sat for a minute, staring into nothing. Then, with a sigh, she scrambled out of the bushes and walked up to the front door, nervously glancing around as she did so. She pulled her key out from a string tied around her neck, and fumbled for the lock. Please work, please work, please—the door cracked open, and a breeze of warm air invited her in. It was dark in the house, and Lucy fumbled for the light switch. When the lights came on, everything was exactly as she remembered. Same weird artifacts, courtesy of Lockwood’s parents. Same umbrella stand with the spare rapiers. She moved slowly into the kitchen, as if in a dream. There was, indeed, a cake. She grabbed a plate, cut a piece, and sat, dazed, at the table, staring unseeingly at the thinking cloth. This, at least, was different. New doodles and notes and calculations sprawled across the tablecloth, identifiably George, Lockwood, and Holly’s handwritings. Lucy slowly started eating the piece of cake, as her fingers began to thaw and the feeling returned to her feet. She hadn’t quite realized how cold she had been.

 

She carefully washed the plate and fork, and placed them back in the cupboards. She yawned, eyelids drooping. She was so tired. It wouldn’t hurt to just, pop upstairs for a quick nap, would it? She’d be gone before they had a chance of being back.

 

Lucy knew it was a bad idea, possibly the worst idea she could have come up with. But she was just so tired, and warm for the first time in two weeks, and so, so sleepy. So on autopilot, she grabbed her rucksack and tiptoed upstairs to the attic.

 

She collapsed on the bed face-first, and barely remembered to tell the Skull, “Wake me up in a couple hours, okay?” before she’d dropped into unconsciousness.

  

* * *

 

 

Lucy was awoken by a crash. She sat bolt upright.

 

“Bloody hell, this—Lockwood!” a muffled voice said a second later. “How many times have I said we can’t put the rapiers here! This is the sixth time!”

 

Fully alert now, Lucy scrambled out of bed. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” she whispered frantically to the Skull.

 

_What? You didn’t tell me to do that!_

_“_ Yes, I did! Skull, oh now what’ll I do?”

 

_I distinctly remember you saying, ring me up a bouquet of flowers, ok? Did you not say that? I’ll admit, I was quite confused, but you seemed insistent about it…_

Lucy frantically swung the rucksack onto her back, and then walked as quietly as possible to the door. When she saw nobody on the stairs, she rushed down, trying to minimize the creaks she made. Although honestly, she needn’t have bothered. There was a real row going on downstairs. Lockwood and George were now arguing about why there was a rapier stand in the first place, and why couldn’t they move it over here? Lucy screeched to a halt at the second floor landing, staring in horror at the complete lack of escape routes in that direction. Lockwood and George only had to turn their heads and they’d see her.

 

She thought quickly, and then decisively turned the doorknob and slipped into Lockwood’s room. She ran to the window. Yes, it was just as she’d remembered, the back porch roof was below his window. If she could just get onto that.

 

Lucy took off her rucksack and bent to examine the latch. It was corroded shut, but after too many minutes and several _quiet_ tugs, it disengaged. She heaved the window open just as she heard footsteps on the stairs. Panicking, she squeezed herself through the window and out into the freezing cold. She slammed the window shut, and then sat down, slid off the roof and quietly landed on her feet in the back garden, slightly squashing a lavender bush. She was over the garden wall in no time, and three blocks away in another minute.

 

Lucy stopped to catch her breath, pulse beating in her ears. And then suddenly she felt like she’d been dunked in ice-cold water. The Skull! Oh no. She’d left her rucksack on the floor of Lockwood’s bedroom.

 

She could leave it. No, she couldn’t actually, because then they’d know she’d been there. And plus, the Skull was her most valuable possession, and as loath as she was to admit it, she was sort of fond of it, and she’d most likely have been ghost touched by now if it wasn’t for it. She had to go back.

 

A few minutes later, she was staring at the second story window from the back yard. It looked climbable; there was a sort of trellis part of the way up, and some ivy climbing the wall. It was doable, and after checking to make sure that all the denizens of the house were safely downstairs, Lucy started climbing. In no time, she was standing on the slippery porch roof, trying to figure out how burglars did it in the movies. Did you use special tools? Grease? Friction gloves? Finally, Lucy broke off a branch of dead ivy and managed to lever the window open enough that she could get her fingers in the space. She managed to get an arm in, and then open it enough that she could fit her torso through. She briefly contemplated what would happen if the heavy window fell. Probably nothing good.

 

Lucy spied her rucksack immediately, a green glow emanating from inside. “Skull!” she whispered.

 

_And here I thought you’d gone and left me!_ It replied.

She couldn’t quite reach it, so she wriggled in a little more. Now only her legs were outside, and she tried in vain to reach the straps of the rucksack.

 

And that was when she heard the footsteps. Lucy frantically swiped at the bag, trying to snag it—almost—there—

 

The door opened, and there was Lockwood standing, holding a cup of tea, eyes wide with shock.

 

Two things happened at once. Lucy finally lost her grip on the window frame, and tumbled to the floor. Lockwood dropped his teacup, and it fell to the floor, splashing tea everywhere, and broke off the handle. And both of them froze up.

 

Lucy scrambled to her feet, straightening her skirt frantically, trying to look as not-guilty as possible. As a result, she looked quite guilty. “Uh, hi Lockwood. Hello there, how’s it going, how are you?” she said, her voice a full octave above normal.

 

Lockwood was still frozen.

 

“This isn’t what it looks like, I’m not burgling you, I promise, I was just—uh“

_Ooh this should be good!_ The Skull cackled from inside her bag.

“Shut up! No, not you, sorry, it’s just—the Skull—“ Lucy trailed off, waving her hand in the direction of her rucksack a bit frantically, while trying to think of what to say. “I’ll just—I’ll be going now, goodbye, it was nice seeing you, um, see you ne—“

 

Lockwood suddenly unfroze, and strode across the room to her, catching her wrist as she started to turn away. He moved his hands gently to her shoulders and stared intently into her eyes. “Luce. Lucy. Calm down. It’s ok, really, I believe you’re not trying to rob me. Look, do you want a cup of tea? I could do with another myself, that one’s a bit…well don’t worry about it, I’ll clean it up later, yeah?”

 

Still a bit shell-shocked, Lucy could only mumble, “yeah” and allow herself to be led out of Lockwood’s bedroom and downstairs into the kitchen. She could hear George and Holly’s voices, and slowed down, dragging her heels and making Lockwood have to stop and face her.

 

“Come and have some tea, Luce.” He said, voice full of warmth. And when he turned his Lockwood Megawatt smile on her, and Lucy couldn’t resist anymore. She slowly, slowly, followed him into the kitchen. Holly and George were sitting at the table, drinking tea and playing some sort of game on the thinking cloth.

 

“No, Holly, see you missed that line I made! That’s _my_ line!”

“Oh dear, do you have to make everything so ridiculous and gruesome? Look, I don’t think that’s very accurate at—“ Holly looked up and abruptly stopped talking. George glanced up to see what was wrong, and his eyes widened.

 

Lockwood spoke with forced cheerfulness into the silent room. “Lucy and I are going to have some tea, would you two like another cup?”

 

Silence.

 

“Well then, that sounds like it’s a yes!” And with that, Lockwood started bustling around the kitchen, filling up the kettle and getting out the milk and sugar and teabags. “I just happened to run into Luce in my bedroom!” He stopped for a minute. “By the way, Luce, what exactly were you doing climbing into my bedroom? Not that I mind, obviously, but you have to admit, there are easier ways of entering a house. The door for instance!” He grinned at her, waiting for a response.

 

“Uh…well…um…” Lucy stood helplessly in the middle of the room, three sets of eyes trained on her. And then, to her mortification, she started crying again. The three others kept staring, and Lucy was suddenly crying harder, big shuddering sobs, still just standing in the middle of the kitchen. She squeezed her eyes shut. This had officially been the worst day of her life.

 

And then she felt arms draw her into a hug, and then another person joined in, and when she managed to crack her eyes open, she was looking into Lockwood’s knitted jumper, which smelled like tea a bit, with Holly hugging her just as fiercely on one side. After several minutes Lucy managed to calm down a bit, and Lockwood and Holly loosened their hug and sat her down at the table. When George placed a cup of tea in front of her a minute later, she burst into tears yet again.

 

When she finally calmed down for good, she heard the Skull mutter dryly, _See, I didn’t even interrupt you this time!_ And she couldn’t help it—she started laughing. The others laughed a little too, and eventually Holly asked the question on everyone’s mind, “Lucy, what were you doing in Lockwood’s bedroom?

 

Lucy took a deep breath, and told them about the last few months, about getting kicked out of her apartment, about sleeping in alleys for three weeks, and how she’d just been really cold, and hungry, and thought that they wouldn’t mind, or even notice if she just had a bit of cake—

 

“Hang on, Luce,” Lockwood interrupted, incredulously. “You mean to tell me you still have your housekey, and you decided that it would be easier to come in the window? How exactly was that a solid plan? And that you _didn’t come ask for help_? I would have helped you, Luce. _We_ would have helped you.” He said, and his eyes were soft. Really, she thought, Lockwood actually looked a bit peaky.

 

“Well I _did_ come in the door!” Lucy responded, ignoring the last question, “And I already did eat some cake, and then I was really tired so I went upstairs and fell asleep on my old bed, and Skull here was supposed to wake me up,” she turned and glared at it, “but it conveniently forgot, and then I left it in Lockwood’s bedroom on accident, and had to come get it, and that was when Lockwood showed up. So, I’m sorry for stealing the cake. And for barging in like this. I really was staying away, but you don’t know how hard it’s been without you all…”

 

“Oh I think we know a little bit about that.” George muttered bitterly. Lucy glanced at him, startled. What had been going on since she’d been gone?

 

“Ok, well, show of hands.” Lockwood broke in. “Who’s for reinstating Lucy back in her room here at Portland Row?” He raised his hand. Holly immediately raised hers, and George slowly raised his. “It’s settled then.” He announced. “Lucy, you look like you could use a hot bath.”

 

“That would be—that would be nice. Thank you, Lockwood.” Lucy said quietly, self-consciously brushing her hair out of her face. The other three were on agent time, and they looked pretty tired. Holly and George drifted off to bed, and Lockwood went upstairs to run a bath for her. Lucy could feel that they’d have to have a bit more of a talk than this, about why she’d left, and why she’d stayed away, and why did Lockwood look so tired, and George lash out like that, but that could wait until tomorrow. And maybe, maybe, things were going to be all right.

 

_I told you this was a bad plan. Now look at you, back at Lockwood and Co.! Next time you should listen to me, instead of dashing off willy nilly!_ The Skull interrupted her thoughts.

“But I did follow—! Oh never mind. I’m too tired to argue.” And with that, Lucy walked upstairs to take a very long, very hot bath.

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, so I'd just like to say, I'm aware it's probably unrealistic that there aren't any homeless shelters or soup kitchens in London. I couldn't figure out how to incorporate homelessness, one part of the prompt, with Lucy deciding to break into Portland Row for food (the other part) without pretending there aren't any for some reason. Maybe the Problem has the government spending all their money on ghost hunting instead of social welfare? Idk. This was based off a prompt, and I by no means want to imply that homeless people are going to burglar your home. I think it's in character of Lucy that she's just drawn to Lockwood & Co, and the cake-stealing is really only the excuse she gives herself to get a little mental pick-me-up because her life really sucks right now. Also, terribly terribly sorry about the horrible abuse of dashes--it's a bad habit of mine.  
> Comments are greatly appreciated! Keeps my writing juices in an exited state...nm this is not the time for physics jokes.


End file.
